Bad Teacher
by D0ll
Summary: Puck might have been a pretty bad student. But he's an even worst teacher.


Two blodes and him were doing the nasty and it was fucking great, no actually they were two blonde _twins_, which just made it that more awesome.

"Mr. Puckerman?"

Why was the one twin calling him Mr. Puckerman? Puck has been called a lot of shit in bed; daddy, papi, baby, Jesus, God... hell even one chick called him Jared before, which happened to be the chick's ex-boyfriend's name. He broke that shit off with her quick.

"Mr. Puckerman?" And why did the chick sound like some whiney kid?

Blinding fluorescent light got in his eyes, Puck groaned while he wiped the sleep from his eyes and saw some dweeb with glasses and frizzy brown hair staring down at him. The kind of kid Puck used to throw into dumpsters as a teenager.

For a second he wondered where the hot blondes went to and where was he, when it hit him like a ton of bricks.

He was a teacher and it was fuckin' monday morning. _Fuck_!

* * *

He finished scrawling his name "Puck" on the board, he still prefered getting called by his nick name than Mr. Puckerman, since that reminded him off his dead beat father, and surveyed his classroom skeptically.

"Yo, have any of you watched _Shindler's List_?" He saw a bunch of blank, bored and disinterested faces looking back at him and grew frushrated.

"Are you shitting me? Hitler, Shindler, the plight of my Jewish people?! Ring any bells?!"

The dweeby looking kid with the jewfro from before raised his arm, "You, four eyes!" Puck said while he tilted his head, signaling for him to go ahead and answer.

Nerd boy began gave him the typical, long, boring dictionary answer. The kid was dragging on and on... Puck finaly stopped him about halfway through the long winded speech before Puck was forced to stab himself in the eye with a pencil to distract him from the bore. "Good, now go grab the TV in the back and roll it up here."

"Wait, we are going to watch a movie on our first day of class?"

"Yeah, so what, are some kind of a fuckin' narc?" Puck asked Jewfro.

"I don't think teachers are supposed to cuss."

"Get out."

"What-"

"I said get the out my classroom!" Puck ordered, pointing to the dooor and smilied as he watched Jewfro leave. Sometimes it rules being a teacher.

Puck took another look around at his classroom and asked, "Anyone got anything they want to add?... No? Good, now you up front, yeah you, go turn off the lights and hit the play button."

* * *

I know what you are thinking, how did Puck, bad ass extraordinar, go from rocking out on his guitar to being some lame ass teacher back in Lima?

Well, Puck was getting tired at playing a small venues for chunk change and knew the only way to hit it big was if you get a demo tape, send it to some big whiggs in the music industry, then comes the record deal and the fame, glory and hot groupies.

The only problem is, Puck didn't have enough green to get a demo so his musical carear would have to be put on hold while he got a job to save up money.

And really, being a teacher didn't look all that bad at first.

The hours were short, there were plenty of vaca' days, and dealing with a bunch of snot nosed little fuckers seemed like cake, considering he was a king at McKinly a few years ago.

But one year later, Puck was still no closer to sighing a record deal and being a teacher was looking more on the permant side of life. Unless Puck found some kind of a way to make some serious bank.

* * *

Day two and his class was finishing _Shindler's List_ while Puck revisted the dream with the blonde twins, just when it was getting to an interesting part some little fucker had to wake him up.

"What the fuck is it?" Stopping when he saw some innocent sixteen year old girl wearing a sweater with... _is that a fuckin' owl_, with short plaid skirt that showed of her long legs and Puck immediantly began to think jaibate. It didn't help that the girl was staring at him with big brown eyes looking at him all all intensly and whatever, like she had some kind of big crush on him.

"Hi! My name is Rachel Berry and I made these for you!"

Puck looked down and saw a tuberware box full of star shaped cookies with frosting and sprinkles. Puck reached in the box and took a bite out of one, "'S pretty good." He said while chewing on the vanilla cookie.

"Thank you I made them myself using-"

Puck mind drifted away about half way through her speech. He felt like he seen this girl before somewhere but wasn't sure where. Then it hit him, the synagagoe. Now that he felt like he kind of knew this girl, he felt kinda bad for the chick, high school can't be good for a girl who gives her teachers cookies and wears checkered knee socks with animal sweaters. So he tried to be the nice guy for once and help her, so he interrupted her speech saying, "Look just so you know, stop dressing like a granny and using big words all the time. Shit like that will get you a slushie facial. I know, I'm the one that orignated it."

Rachel Berry's eyes grew even wider before she huffed and stormed to her seat.

Puck shrugged thinking you can lead a horse to water and all that shit, right? He leaned down to open the hidden compartment in his desk he used to store all of his beer cans. Puck took one out and placed it underneath his desk, opening the can as quietly as he could. He figured the room was dark enough to take a little drink without the kids being none the wiser and took a big gulp wiping his mouth with the back of his hand placed the empty beer can with the rest and put Berry's cookies in there too, so the janitors didn't try to come in and steal his shit. Afterwards Puck placed his head on his desk and tried to go to sleep as Shindler was tried to escape from the red army.

* * *

Puck was..? Well, the point is that he was doing something very important and needed to use his stapler, but when he went to put it back he realized it was stuck to his hand. He heard the class laugh as he instinctively waved his hand around trying to get the damn thing off before adressing the assholes that filled his classroom.

"Cute." Puck said smiling like he wasn't pissed as Hell "The old stapler to hand thing is a cute prank, you know who invented that prank? _Me_. When I was in second grade." Puck said calmy as the classroom grew silent.

He already knowing who did it. The tall dark haired guy in back with the letterman jacket, the doopey looking smile, who sat in the back row and laughed the hardest. Puck realized it was him, whatever his name was, because a few years ago, _Puck was him_. Granted, at his age he Puck was better looking, had better hair and wasn't so fuckin' obvious after he done a prank.

Puck went to stand up ready to have it out with, Fred or George or whatever his the fucker's name was, but when Puck tried to stand up but found he was stuck to the chair.

_Mother fucker._

* * *

"I didn't do it."

Mr. Figgins exhaled deeply before running his wrinkled tan hands through his graying hair. "We know you did it Puck. You are the only one with the motive and the means to steal all the football equipment. Look, I know these kids can be rude, disrespectful and unbelievably cruel," Said the older Indian man remembering the vicous "cow milking" rumors swirling around him from a year ago. "And sometimes I just want to quit, you know what keeps me going?"

Puck shook his head no, "Social security and retirement. But the point is, you can't just go around pranking the student body after they put some super glue on your staple and chair like you are a student. Did you _even_ read the teacher guidelines?!"

Puck leaned back in his over stuffed chair staring over his desk at his old principal, now boss, and noticed the times have not been good to Figgs. He was too skinny, deep crows feet on the corner of each eye, worry lines on his forehead, frown lines on his chin, plus his hair was thinning on top and turning gray. If Puck was still working here at his age and looked like_ that_ he would shoot himself. "Yeah, I'm not big on reading guidelines. Actually I'm not big on reading. That's why I'm using media techniques, you know, they are the new books."

Figgins slammed his hand hard down on his oak wood desk. His temper had been tried one too many times in the past and now his tolerence level was dangerously thin. "I know you did it Mr. Puckerman, just confess or do I have to call your mom like I did years ago?"

Puck crossed his arms, "You wouldn't call my mom."

"Do you want to try me?"

Puck gulped and Mr. Figgins smilied but Puck masked his fear, "Listen, Figgs, I really didn't do it. I'm not a teenager anymore. You can call my mom if youd like, she'd tell you I was at out temple that night, it was the Sabath after all. And if that's all I'd like to go." The principal waved him out not knowing what else to do since there was no proof.

As Puck left the Principal's office he wondered what the hell he was going to do with all that football gear and balls in his garage, he's definitly going to have to move them before his mom came home. Well, it looked like his lunch period was going to be busy.

* * *

"Told ya he died in the end. Cough up the dough, suckers."

Puck wasn't sure if _Pan's Labyrinth_ was relevant to this math, english...F_uck, what did he teach again?_ It was an R-rated movie, but the kids were teenagers so they were old enough for it, they didn't need permission slips and all that shit, right? Hell, he was sneaking into R rated movies since he was, like, six years old.

Puck held out his hand as the kids handed over their money. He licked his finger and began to count the money as his kids left. "You Jewfro you forget my five." Puck grinned as Jacob-Whatever handed him another five frowning the whole time.

Kid was a straight up freak. The way he stared at that Rachel girl in his class and at the temple honestly freaked Puck the fuck out. He was this close to handing the girl some kind of student phamlet or some shit to help. But he wasn't being paid to be no fuckin' guidance counselor.

It was his lunch time and Puck was happy he got the chance to stretch his feet a little and catch some food at the teacher lounge as long as none of this losers looked at him, he was down for grabbing some food and a cup of coffee. He needed sugar and caffeine to get through the end of the day.

On his way out he saw that doopey looking kid again with the Letterman jacket, his old letterman jacket and stopped him.

"Wait you! Hold up a sec'."

"It's Finn, Mr. Puckerman." _Finn? What kind of fuckin' name is that?_ Whatever, Puck had something to get off his chest, quick and ever since he stole the football equpment Finn wan't acting like such a dick.

"Look, word to the wise, I was the original badass. I was you basically. I had it all in highschool. The football jersey, knocked up the head Cheerio-"

"Really? That's awesome-" Fiin said clearly impressed.

"Did I tell you to interrupt me?! Anyway, the moral of the story is, look at me where I am now. I'm a fuckin' high school teacher working for minimum wage. Don't do what I did and end up like me. Now get the fuck out my classroom."

* * *

The teacher's lounge was full of middle-aged, alcoholic and obese losers that gave up their dreams a long time ago.

That is why Puck avoided the place like the plague. He did _not_ want to face the reality of his place in life. But also didn't feel like working out in the locker room and he could really use a cup of some strong coffee which is how Puck found himself in the teacher's lounge waiting for the coffee maker to finish while he avoiding direct eye contact with everyone there.

"Hey are you the English teacher?" Said the friendy voice of another teacher who Puck vaguely recalls seeing in the classroom across the hall from his.

_Shit_! _What do I fucking teach_? Puck wondered but did not want some long conversation with the dude, so he just choose to nod and keep his eyes on the coffee maker, hoping the guy would take the hint eventually. But whoever this was just on kept talking. Out of his perifial vision Puck could see the guy smiling, gesturing vaguely with his hands only God knows what about, talking to him about what he taught, his plans and shit that Puck could give less than two shits about.

"I heard you played guitar and sang so I thought maybe you'd be a good addition to our glee-"

"Listen bro', all I want is some cup of Joe, alright? So hit the bricks." The wavey haired man looked at him in shock and took a step backwards. Puck saw the coffee had finaly been filtered and went to pour his into a cup, "Okay, I'll leave." _Finaly_. "I guess you don't want that prize money."

"Prize money?"

"Yep" Now the other man was smiling smugly at Puck, "If we win sectionals this year we get a prize, and you get some of that money if you help us out."

"How much would I get?"

"A thousand."

The price of having a demo recorded in the studio with a few song was a grand. Puck could pratically see the heavens aligning, and hear the angels singing hallelujah. Finaly, Puck's dream was about to come true, his hand slipped in excitement, accidently spilling his cup of coffee all over the other teacher's sweater vest, but whatever, Puck was doing him a solid, that thing was uglier than a kick in the nuts.

* * *

**A/N:** I might leave this as a one shot or might not, it depends on the feedback I get because right now I'm ot sure if it is any good or not. It just was an idea I had to write.


End file.
